Flat on the Floor
by Muzik-Mafia3142
Summary: JD and Brea meet Sam and Dean on a hunt. When they run into a demon who looks all too familiar and a past family member. JD's past comes back to haunt her literaly... be it a dead lover or nightmarish reality. Rated M for saftey
1. Chapter 1

I turned my head taking in the man standing next to me. Nice, sweet, kind and gentle, a group date that wound up being a semi-setup by my best friend. She thought it would be good for me to get out of the house and be with someone. Until now, after dinner and waiting on our friends for a movie, I never realized that she was completely right.

He smiled a small shy smile, when he caught me staring making me blush and force my eyes away from him and that's when I saw her. A little blonde haired girl crouched in the ally beside the theater. Looking around for a frantic mother in case they might have lost a child but there wasn't one, so I motioned for my date to follow as I walked over to the little girl.

As I got closer to her I noticed her body shaking as if being attacked by a never-ending onslaught of sobs, I crouched beside. "Hi, my name is Lauren, where's your mom, I could bring you to her?" My voice was soft and smooth, trying to comfort and finding it working as her body calmed and her face turned to look at me.

The girl's eyes held a mature essence that shocked me; in seconds her hand reached out and covered the spot where my heart would be, while her incredibly wise orbs met mine. I watched her lips sweep in a motion of voicing words as the letters fell silently to my ears and suddenly I was only aware of her; commanding my attention. There was a pressure that appeared instantly through my ribcage and to the main beating organ, and as if it never happened I was released and fell backwards.

Lying there unmoving, staring at this little girl, in her hand my heart. For some reason, whatever the reason, I could still see her and I watched as she walked toward my blind date, watched as the girl reached out and I swear her hand went right through his chest and pulled out his own heart as well.

Black started to ring my vision, why was I still alive to witness the death of a person at the hands of someone so angelic and innocent beyond her years? The last thing I saw before my world ended was he and the blank staring face, while mine shown a twisted form of fright.

"Come on JD, you know there's a job here," Brea all but screamed at me.

We were currently sitting in some local diner and I had ordered a decaf with a salad. Brea on the other hand ordered a black coffee, a bacon cheeseburger, and a piece of apple ala mode serving her a look from me to her then down at her plate.

"You know that could kill you right?"

She glared at me and I could tell by the look on her face she was questioning why she even talked to me.

"Hardy har, har." One-way ticket to heart failure.

I smiled in spite of my feelings. "Brea I know there is, I mean one look at the autopsy report and any hunter would know that there's a job. The victims are missing their hearts, and there's no evidence suggesting someone cracked open their chests. So yes I know there's a job here."

"But---" Muffled by the wonderful musical sounds of the artery clogger in her mouth it came out like a dog trying to speak.

"Brea, don't talk with your mouth full."

Her eyes narrowed at my scolding tone, but she finished chewing. "But what you said about finding..."

"I simply _noticed_," I cut her off before she could say anything else, "That the incidents happened in the range of at least 5 miles west of where we're staying, so I was suggesting we find a place closer to that area."

She rolled her eyes at me, before that used to bother me and when I asked her about it she just said, 'because I know you're just being you JD.' After that, I ignored it and attributed it to Brea being Brea. At that moment the diner's bell hanging over the door rang signaling a new costumer, my back was to the door so I couldn't see them but Brea could.

"Quit staring Brea it's not polite," my tone again scolding, she just blinked.

"I call dibs on the short one," her voice frantic and excited. I looked around behind me toward where she had been staring. They were both relatively tall---compared to me anyway---but yes, one was indeed shorter than the other.

The waitress led them to their table, and I observed that the shorter one was just up Brea's ally; long bow legged strides speaking wonders, a sense of self---he knew what he was doing to poor women like Brea---he also seemed to be alert to everything around him as if sensing for a threat. I could hear the soft thudding of his biker boots like the whispering beat of a heart. Like all good men he wore jeans, faded in all the right places. He had on several layers of shirts none of which gave hints at the tantalizing mysteries that may lie beneath the surface. Although I could see large toned biceps, ready to take arms if called into battle and from the commanding air that seemed to follow this man he would do indescribable things in the American army…no wait, the U.S. Marines.

Moving on to the taller one, he seemed sensible although his steps were awkward, unsure; obviously he was concentrating on something far more important. He seemed to be just legs as I continued my inspection of him, but just before I gave up trying to see something of him other than lengthy stems, I noticed that just between the brim of his pants and the bottom of the button up shirt revealed something that made my breathing hitch. Something like breath hitching shocked me, I haven't gotten like this over someone since...no I won't go there. Continuing onwards, lightly tanned skin stretching over muscles one wouldn't know existed, hands that told of hard work and weapon handling.

Both these men had qualities that seemed to scream Army, Navy, Marines, and Air Force...but something told me they weren't that into biding by the rules. That's when I saw something I only saw around other hunters, that aura of death and misfortune. I closed my eyes, I felt for the two of them, my mind automatically jumping to Jason and stopping before I could stray too far into those deep misery filled waters.

I turned back to Brea, her light brown eyes filled with excitement and lust. "Don't worry you'll have no competition from me. He's all yours. In fact, you can have both."

"Aww, you're moping again, missing Jason are you?" I glared at her. I couldn't believe she would bring him up.

"Oh come off your high horse, it's been 3 years. I'm worried about you ya know, if it weren't for Taylor, I'm pretty sure you would've jumped in front of the nearest bus." Brea had gone from excited to pitying in no time flat. She really was like Tinker bell, she couldn't feel or at least show more than one emotion and the switch was usually drastic. Her gaze again drifted to the two men. "Look I'm fine I just don't see the point, you know I can't stand one night stands." I defended myself even though I knew her attention was fully and completely on the two men on the other side of the diner.

"Mmhm, look I'll be right back okay."

Without waiting for a reply she stood up and walked over to them and I knew exactly what was happening; being her usual flirty self, then one of them, probably the short one, would offer to let her sit with them. I finished eating, glancing over just in time to spot Brea giggling, now it was my turn to roll my eyes. Pulling out my phone I sent her a text. 'I'm not waiting, have fun with tall, dark and handsome not to mention short, strong and brooding.'

I picked up my order to go and headed outside, not wanting to be a tag along in Brea's wonderful life of bedpost royals. A breath in of the cool, fresh, crisp air, sighing and walking over to my beautiful black 1985 Harley-Davidson, removing the black helmet and the black leather jacket from the seat and handlebars before stuffing the little Styrofoam container inside. Hopping on my baby I pulled on the helmet and the leather jacket, they still smelled like him…Engine purring as I rode out of the lot registering a black '67 Chevy Impala just a few inches ready for the main road traffic. What I wouldn't give for a ride in that gorgeous classic.

I reached the motel we were staying at, not too far from the diner we had taken residence in for devouring delights of all types, I had the slightest feeling of déjà' vu. Shaking it off I stepped inside the room where I was greeted with the hard sound of running water. Smiling to myself I set the white box from the diner on the table.

"Hello?" a fragile voice called.


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm back," I called out. "And I brought you pancakes!" There was a pliable squeal followed by a soft thud. "You okay in there?"

"Yeah I just tripped no biggie," came the reply.

Smiling I sat down in one of the hard backed chairs. Our room was generic, the comforts of home and once you got away from the blandness you could see along the perimeter a thick line of rock salt, also piled next to the beds were duffle bags filled with clothes, weapons, holy water, a long list.

After several seconds the water shut off, the sound of light footsteps on tiles before she came out of the bathroom wearing a light pink "Daddy's little girl" t-shirt and a black skirt. Sitting across from me she pulled the white box toward her that I had set down and lifting the lid, she started to eat the fluffy clouds of pure deliciousness.

"Taylor, honey, slow down."

Taylor had been wolfing them down like it was the end of the world or something, but in the end she smiled and slowed down, diligently chewing her warm pillows of delectable culinary masterpieces. Soon the girl finished her breakfast, both of us diving into our traditional game of strategy. Minutes turned to hours and 1 game became three, there was a trip to the library, and two soft tacos, and then finally Brea came back. Her long light brown hair had been pulled into a sophisticated bun and she was wearing her black FBI suit.

"You talk to the local Police Department?" I asked her as she flopped onto the bed closest to the door.

"Yes, they're all a bunch of pigs, they kept staring at my c-h-e-s-t," Brea stated exasperatedly, staring up at the ceiling.

I looked over at her from my position on the floor and spoke. "Brea, you know she can spell right?"

Her head turned toward me, then over to Taylor who was at the table coloring. "Since when? And fine, I'll put it into better terms, assets."

Laughing I got up while picking up the papers that were scattered like fallen autumn leaves around me before walking over to her. "At least a year Brea. Oh, and that wasn't any better. Here this is what I found out at the library," I told her, setting the pages upon endless pages of research next to her on the bed for her to look at.

"Turns out every month for the past year four or five males between the ages fifteen and twenty-seven, all missing their hearts, all open cases, turn up dead. After looking up local newspapers ranging from city to state, I looked for rituals that might include removing hearts. I scored, there's a demonic ritual called Bellum Amnium in Omnes, which, literally means 'a war of all against all'. Supposedly it brings forth the reign of the second horseman, the rider of the red horse, War. He carries a large sword symbolizing the blood spilled on the battlefield, his power to take peace from the earth, and make men kill each other, to kill with the sword. When I plotted the attacks on a map of the town it formed an inverse pentagram. Oh and I was wrong," I paused, thinking about how in the moment of taking a breath and break I wasn't going to let Brea get in her shocked and witty jibes at my IQ and how I am never wrong, yeah right, think again.

"Factoring in all the other attacks we're directly in the center right where---as the ritual says---War will come forth on his stallion, shimmering blade raised high prepared to bring into the world his brothers Famine, and Death together with Conquer who has already been unleashed upon the world, they shall reign centuries of supreme destruction down on the Earth and all of her inhabitants. So that's what I found out…what about you?"

"Oh, well, pretty much the same on the attacks, but with the last set of victims this "killer" got to a young woman about 23, a student at one of the local universities, by the name of Lauren Manchester along with her date. According to her friends who were interviewed after finding the two of them in the alleyway beside the theater, his name was Tyler Anderson. The Police Department is expecting me to come back tomorrow with my partner, to redo the autopsies."

"Okay, hey how'd it go with those guys from the diner?"

I was trying, though not so subtly, to change the subject because I noticed Taylor staring at us.

"Great, although, I left shortly after you did. Dean, the short one, gave me his phone number and told me to call this weekend. Apparently he and Sam, the tall one also his brother, are in town for business but for some reason they never gave me a straight answer when I asked what it was they did. Anyways, I figured what the hell if we're done by then I'll call, if not, oh well right? I mean there are plenty of other fish in the sea, right?"

Thing is I knew these questions, she always asked me for my opinion but never expected an answer back, I hate rhetorical questions, so I just sat there and listened to her ramble on and on about Dean. It was Dean this…Dean that…and 'sometimes he eats like a squirrel it's so cute!', gag me with a spoon please.

"Oh and guess what they're staying here as well."

Great, just what I need a male version of Brea, as if she isn't enough of a handful, I mean Taylor's easier to handle and she's five, and Brea's only god knows how old.

"JD…Earth to JD…JANETDOE SNIDE! Are you listening to me?"

Her hand was waving at high-speed in front of my face like a ceiling fan trying to catch my attention. I resisted the urge to bite it, but knowing that would just end in disaster I didn't. Brea would consider it an inappropriate joke and be insulted as well not to mention.

"What? Oh yes, yes I was listening." Lie. "Something about Dean right?" Making an educated guess.

"No. Well, yes. As I was driving away from the PD I watched them get out of this old car, I think it was a Gazelle, oh I'm not sure, and anyway they were dressed in FBI issued suits. What do you think it means?"

I knew exactly what it meant, I've known since this morning but how do I tell her, she doesn't play well with other hunters since Gordon tried to hunt us down and kill us, but that's beside the point. "It's an Impala Brea. Also, the thing about Sam and Dean is that---and I could be wrong---that they're hunters."

**Again I wanna thank my wonderful Beta Tori (gypsywoman1). Without whom I'd botch the spelling...I think I fell asleep in class the day they taught us to spell...  
Review please it makes me smile!**


	3. Chapter 3

After pulling up to the small local police department, we got out of Brea's silver 2010 Mercedes SLC; her belief with cars is the newer the better. Last night after I had told her, she decided to react by getting up, walking out, slamming the door and screaming obscenities at random passersby. In the end though, I got her to calm down and agree to pretend like they weren't hunters if we ran into them again though I'm pretty sure we will. At one point she even tried to convince me that we should leave and let them deal with the hunt here, pointing out that this was technically her hunt. I told her they would probably need help since we're dealing with the four horsemen…yeah not too happy.

Walking in I saw that she had been right; as soon as she stepped across the threshold every male eye snapped to her body. The local cops were pigs with a capital Chauvinistic. None of them even noticed me and why would they, I mean I'm not bagging on myself I am rather eye catching and alone they would have definitely noticed me, but with Brea the tall, leggy, brunette, I was simply the extremely short blonde "girl".

The sheriff walked over to us---short stubby, somewhat of the stereotypical police officer and in many ways reminded me of a potbelly pig, more skins and scrapings from the trough than the others apparently. He happened to be balding and at least 43, his eyes were beady and seemed to never stray from Brea's long vivacious body. Quickly glancing at me, not bothering to ogle however like he was my friend, he spoke, "Special Agent Anka, who's this child? Where's your partner?"

I smiled, Brea had gone through a whole 60's period and I think her obsession lasted longer than the actual sixties, she still continued to use her favorite artists when introducing us.

"Sheriff this is my partner Special Agent DeShannon," Brea laughed.

He blinked, obviously shocked. "What, a Child?" His chubby face turned to me, appraising my short stature and delicate features.

"I am not a child, I happen to be twenty-four and I have witnessed more shit in my whole life then you will ever see even if you manage to live till you're a hundred," I stated, in a tone that was obviously mirroring the offense I felt as I looked up at him. Although, I'm completely positive that Brea could hear the sarcastic hint of a giggle in my voice.

"I'm sorry it's just that...umm..."

Clearly he was flustered, stumbling and searching for words. Letting him feel uncomfortable for another long moment before I allowed a light smile to touch my soft lips, I had to calm his embarrassment at his mistake.

"It's alright I get the child thing all the time."

Giving me an awkward smile he turned back to Brea who he was more comfortable talking to. "Well the bodies are over at the morgue, I'd take ya myself but I got some…Mmm…work to do. So I'll have Officer Ackerman take ya over." Turning around he shouted, "Hey Ackerman get o'er here!"

As the sheriff turned back to us he caught a sneak into my eyes, making him appear speechless, and I took an inner pride at the fact that my eyes could make a lot of people do that. I had once tried contacts but the amethyst always managed to shine through, making people stare more than usual.

"Are those natural?"

Even though I knew he thought I was wearing contacts the question made me think of breast implants.

'_Hmm I wonder why.' _

How on earth could they freaking implant eye color?

"Yup had 'em all my life."

After blinking he turned back to Brea, I guess staring at me was unnerving. "So Ackerman'll take the both of ya to the morgue so ya'll can do your business."

Ackerman walked up to us, and I had to say he was exactly the opposite of the Sheriff what with him standing stood a good full 6 feet, his hair a smooth suave rich dark brown, and either he got lots of sun, like me, or if he was simply of Italian descent.

"Yeah Sheriff?" his voice came out slow ringing with a slight southern drawl.

"I want ya to take these two here FBI ladies to the morgue to examine the bodies, while I deal with the two nut heads." The Sheriff motioned to the door, causing Brea and I to turn our heads in that direction to see whom he'd just motioned to.

There in all their glory was Sam and Dean, dressed in the traditional law abiding black suit and I had to admit that Sam could defiantly pull off the look. Dean on the other hand fell short of expectations, since instead of the badass look of an FBI Agent he was going for, he looked more like a senior in high school who's prom date just pulled a MacGyver without a trace of a glass slipper or pumpkin bits.

I had eventually reverted my attention back to the sheriff and Ackerman, while Brea was intently focused on the two male hunters…probably daydreaming of what could've and never will be. I could practically feel the waves of newfound hatred mixed with confusion and lust. This mass combination was hard on her, and although this rarely happened I always wondered if she was going to spontaneously combust.

A smile graced my facial features as I spoke. "So officer Ackerman, would you so kindly show us to the morgue?"

After passing a shocked moment where he looked around, as if looking for who had asked him, his eyes landed on me. I must have been out of his line of sight because his head was tilted down at a weird attempt for a correct angle of viewing my form.

"Um, yes come with me."

Stepping on Brea's foot to get her attention, I followed him out the door past the two hunters, who were too busy with the potbelly sheriff to notice us walking by. It seemed at that fact we were in luck, maybe we'd never have to deal with these guys on this case and that a run in would never occur. Yeah, well ain't that jinxing us too much after placing the cherry on top of the sundae, more whipped cream anyone?

**A.N**

**Again I want to thank my wonderful beta, who of course keeps me from putting off this story like I have, unfortunatly done with the others.**

**Please Review... I would say read but I assume that if you are reading this you've already read the chapter... I hoped you enjoyed it... and I can asure you that there is more to follow!**


	4. Chapter 4

When we reached the morgue, after Brea managed to tear herself away from the life-sized Ken doll, Ackerman decided he would sit in the office up front with the rest of the staff. He told us that it was so he wouldn't get in our way, although personally I think he just can't stand the sight of blood.

"Look at this," Brea called from where she had been examining the only female victim, Lauren.

"What is it?"

I was off to the side looking at reports, records, and medical histories, not really bothering on heading over to where she was just yet. Whatever it was, it was either important but not worth the few steps, or it was and I happened to be lazy.

"Right here on the left side of her chest where her heart is supposed to be, is a dark flame shaped scar. It's odd," she paused, "Even for us."

Setting down the files I was looking at, I wandered over to the bodies with the faces of the victims looking peaceful---almost as if they were simply sleeping. Although, on their chests were the basic Y cut for the autopsy, yeah, that drew the illusion too far down the drain for my tastes, so I averted my sights to the scar.

"It's about the same size as a small fist," I commented, my hand hovering over the mark to prove my point and measure it for a finalized result. "See?"

She walked over to a couple of the other pale corpses, "They all have the strange mark. JD, what did you find in the files?"

Swiveling to face her, a smile crept over my lips. "What didn't I find? Okay, so, in several of the police reports witnesses stated they saw a little blond haired girl around the age of ten leaving the scene where the deceased were found. None of them ever saw her face, but her right hand was stained red. The police are looking for her, calling her a 'person of interest'. But so far with their search, they have had no luck finding her."

"So...you think this girl is the one doing this?"

"It's probable. Ideas on why though, a sign of possession, maybe she's just that jacked up in the noggin or she's anything but human but likes the appearance. I'll check a few books and try and see what is going on, if anything clicks into place and matches what is going on here. Plus I'll go through the missing persons and see if anyone reported a ten year old missing in the area from the time when this all started, fitting description given…and you can question witnesses' as well as these fine citizens' family members," I replied.

Why did I feel like this was going to take longer and be harder than it sounded?

~*~

After we finished in the morgue we thanked Ackerman, and truthfully, I think he was grateful to be away from the chilly crypt. On our way back to Brea's distasteful ostentatious car, we ran into Mulder and Scully, although, I wasn't quite sure who was who.

"Brea, you're an FBI agent?" Sam seemed confused, and yet again I go unnoticed.

Jabbing her with my elbow, I held out my hand for the keys, she just pushed it away, "Yeah, I am. Looks like you're one too," smiling, she continued, "I didn't know Director Collins sent extra agents down here."

The two shared a look that, one that said they were having one of those private conversations, like the ones Brea and I had all the time.

"Yeah Director Collins thought you guys could use a little help."

Sam's sentence came out more as a question then an affirmative statement. Now I was practically positive they were hunters, that is, unless, Brea guessed correctly and that really is the name of the director of the FBI.

"Oh yeah, I suppose he sent you guys so we'd work harder right?" Her smile widened, just barley showing her pearly whites. They seemed to squirm like ants under a microscope. "And I suppose you want our notes." Devil in Prada, anyone...

"Umm." Oh look, she broke their brains.

A small awkward moment passed causing a Cheshire grin to take residence on my face. Finally deciding to take pity on their poor noggins, I helped them out by speaking for the first time. "Well, all ya have to do is ask." Three pairs of eyes stared down at me, what a way to gain attention.

"And when did you get here?" Dean inquired.

"Well see when a woman loves a man..." Brea chuckled cutting me off, turning to her trying to force myself not to laugh. "Why are you laughing, this is a fairly serious matter. This man doesn't seem to understand the concept of how people come to be. He obviously needs this explained to him in detail possibly with charts, graphs, and diagrams," Brea continued.

Dean whom posed such a lovely question blinked confused, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"See I told you, he doesn't even know what I'm talking about. It's a sad serious occurrence when a full grown male doesn't know how people come to be," I voiced, turning to him. "I'm sorry you are lacking such crucial knowledge. Look down, you see this spot where the fly of your jeans are? That is the attacker of my part. One little slip of the rubber casing, bam, travel, search, fertilize, pregnant."

His face was a rather unhealthy purplish color, his mouth gaping like a fish out of water. Still smiling I walked over to Brea who was doubled over with laughter and gave her a shove towards the car. Getting the hint she started to move in that direction, I was moving to follow her when Dean grabbed my wrist.

"What did you just...did you just..." Mental incompetence can't even form a full sentence.

"Yes, I did just...And if you don't let go of my arm you'll regret it."

Brea, noticing that I was no longer following her, turned and caught Dean laughing, so she added her penny into the jar. "Dude, she's serious, if you don't let go you may lose an arm or worse."

He ignored her warning. "How much damage can she do, she's what ten?"

Her tone dripping with pity, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Not waiting for another moment, I rotated my wrist, grabbed his forearm, and wrenched my arm downward. The maneuver turned him around, his grip slipping from my wrist. I slammed my knee into the back of his legs causing him to kneel. Leaning down, hovering just above his right ear with my hand gripping his arm against his shoulder blades, I whispered, "Next time you touch me, I'll rip your arm off and shove it so far up your ass that your fingers come out your ears. Okay pumpkin?"

His voice was so soft that I couldn't even hear the soft, "Uh huh."

"Good," I commented, dropping his hand and stalking off toward the car.

"I told you so, anyway you got off lucky. Last guy who touched her without permission, well he's currently on the 5th floor of New York State hospital, he has his own room and they call him coma guy," Brea's voice was faint, I felt a smirk settle its self smugly on my mouth in remembrance.

I mean what was a girl supposed to do? Invading hand going up my skirt, instinct to beat the want for God's merciful arms into him, and when he then tried to drive home, something happened and he crashed into a tree putting himself into the hospital. Ah, a memory never forgotten. I just hope Dean never forgets and stays clear.

**A.N I wanna thank my lovely wonderful beta my friend gypsywoman1 for pushing me to send her chapters...**


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